


Edge of an Echo

by Kolhrafn



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Spoilers for 4.0, light fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 16:31:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12258042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kolhrafn/pseuds/Kolhrafn
Summary: Being a Resonant means that Zenos is not as dead as he should be...





	1. Nightfall

**Author's Note:**

> A fanfiction written around my Warrior of Light. As my husband and I play FFXIV together his character, Taishelo, is mentioned.  
> What I aimed to explore with this piece was not only the Warrior of Light's feelings after all that she had been through, but also Zenos' character.  
> I have tried to keep the characters as true as possible, and have probably failed, feel free to comment and tell me what you think.  
> This story is set at the end of Stormblood before 4.1, please DO NOT READ if you haven't completed Stormblood.
> 
> FFXIV and all associated characters belong to Square Enix, I do not own them. Merle and Taishelo belong to their respective owners.

Dusk. A time of golden light and lengthening shadows, a time when the comfort of day faded into the insecurity of night.

Merle walked with Lyse down the corridors of Ala Mhigo’s Royal Palace, it had been a few days since the battle with Shinryu and the celebrations were still going on. Zenos was safely in his grave, Merle had seen to  _ that _ personally, to ensure that his body wasn’t defiled.

Fordola rem Lupis, the only survivor of the Crania Lupi, was of greater concern to her. Many of the people were baying for her blood, understandably so, but it wouldn’t do to have her lynched.

Merle sighed as her feet rang on stone, it wasn’t a desire for justice alone that motivated her interest. Fordola was a Resonant, just like Zenos had been, and there was much that could be learned from her.

“Do you have a room for me?” Merle glanced sidelong at Lyse, they hadn’t talked much since their conversation in the menagerie. That was also understandable. Lyse had hated Zenos as the tyrant who had so abused her homeland, finding Merle kneeling beside his body, shedding tears for him had strained their relationship a little.

“I suppose you’re tired,” Lyse shrugged, “after killing that thing in the royal hunting grounds.”

Merle smiled slightly, “The hunters called it Salt and Light.’ She shook her head, “Silly name, but a good hunt nonetheless.”

“You… enjoy hunting don’t you?”

“You seem troubled my friend, do not be,” Merle sighed, looking for the words that would allay the former Scion’s fears. “I know that you’re thinking of what Fordola said about Zenos’ Hunt, about what I said in the Royal Menagerie.” She took a deep breath, “I… am sorry, I was very upset. After everything that happened in Ishgard I’ve been… disconnected from a lot of what’s happened, its as if I somehow lost the ability to properly feel.”

“Alphinaud said that you lost a friend in Ishgard,” Lyse said, Merle detected echoes of the other woman’s pain in her voice, she too had lost people.

“I did.” Merle nodded, “When Taishelo and I challenged Zenos he spoke to us, I realised what he was suffering. Maybe that is what made him that way, no one is born evil, Lyse.”

Lyse shrugged, “I suppose, but everything he did…”

“He was a monster, I do not deny that,” Merle sighed, “but if I cannot feel sorry even for him then how does that make me any different from those I fight”

The former Scion put a hand on her shoulder, making her tense reflexively, “I suppose I shouldn’t be angry because you have a heart.”

“So,” Merle asked quietly, “still friends?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” She shook her head, “is there a room for me? I  _ am _ tired.”

Lyse led her down another corridor, “The palace is pretty full, all the Alliance commanders are still here.”

“Just give me a bunk in the guardroom or something.”

Lyse hesitated, “There is a room that no one wants.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Merle asked.

“Nothing, its just…” Lyse stopped, opening a door to a richly appointed set of rooms.

“Ah,” Merle nodded but a sense of dread had settled in the pit of her stomach, “the royal apartments. I can see why no one wants to stay here.”

“Is it alright?”

“I’ll be fine.”

 

Merle walked slowly around the rooms that she had been given, feeling as if she was somehow trespassing. These had been Zenos’ rooms and they bore the mark of his presence.

As always the insufferable heat of Ala Mhigo wafted through the curtained windows, making her sweat. The air smelt of oil, the kind used to maintain weapons and armour, not the incense used elsewhere in the building.

What surprised her was the lack of personal effects; a collection of katanas mounted on the wall, his helmet, but nothing to tell her about the man who had once lived here.

Merle shook her head, it was getting dark, and she could turn this place over tomorrow. Laying aside her bow she changed into her nightclothes, taking one last look out of the window before closing the curtains.

The broad bed was unmade, which made her uncomfortable, perhaps he hadn’t liked others in his chambers. Yet she was tired so she crawled into it, smelling his scent on the sheets and pillows. 

Troubled she stared at the ceiling until sleep took her.

 

When she opened her eyes she found the chambers lit by the soft glow of a dozen candles, making the place seem more welcoming than it actually was. Worried she sat up, realising suddenly that she was fully clothed in the falconer's gear that she typically wore.

What was going on?

Merle rose from the bed slowly, taking a deep breath as she picked up her Artemis bow, wondering if an Ascian was going to appear from the shadows.

The candle flames moved strangely and, as she relaxed, Merle realised what was happening.

“I am dreaming.”

Such dreams were fairly uncommon, and, as far as she could work out, it meant that something was bothering her. Her mind had retreated into a lucid dream to allow her to work out whatever it was that so troubled her.

Merle went to a large chair and sat down, her bow-cum-harp on her knees. Gently she began to work the strings, teasing forth a surprisingly harsh melody.

It was the best way, she had found, to get at her thoughts. To let the music come out on its own and show her what she needed to see.

Slowly Merle began to sing, drawing out the song that had been imprinted in her soul. For a time she sang in a sort of daze, her mind elsewhere, only part way did she start to notice what was she singing.

 

_ “All, like snow, they fall, _

_ Petals plucked and strewn _

_ Yet from their seeds grow _

_ this war anew.” _

 

Merle recognised it. Sometimes when she fought a primal her spirit, through the Echo she supposed, heard them sing. Something that told of their purpose, or hatreds. 

She found that, once exposed, she remembered them, written upon her soul. This was the song of Ravana, an entity that had existed only for battle and conquest.

 

_ “Blood trickling down from my fullers _

_ and blood trickling down from my hands! _

_ Yes, blood trickling down to Hydaelyn! _

_ Until I alone stand.” _

 

_ “And the war still wageth on! _

_ The storm still rageth on! _

_ the bold blindly march on! _

_ Their lives lost in a song!” _

 

Her fingers stilled, her voice still rang in the air. Merle breathed deeply of the oil-scented air, the Ala Mhigans celebrated peace and yet she sang of war.

 

“Not how I expected to find you, Eikon-Slayer. ”

 

That voice!

 

Merle started, a jolt of fear passing through her as she recognised that lazy, almost purring voice. As she leapt to her feet she was caught for a moment between the urge to draw her weapon and the need to bolt for the door.

“Come now, surely you knew that I would visit you again.”

With a supreme effort of will Merle calmed herself, looking for the source of the voice that sent shivers down her spine, “Zenos.”

He stepped into her field of view, his golden hair seeming to glow in the light. Were it not for those intense eyes he would seem almost angelic, a far cry from the monster that he actually was.


	2. Dance of Dreams

To Merle’s surprise he was bare chested, yet even without his armour his muscular figure radiated power. She could see no scars, no marks on his flesh of previous fights, save one. On his neck was a thin red line, the only indication of the wound that had taken his life.  
Merle met that blue-eyed gaze, this was not the first time that his spirit had visited her in her sleep, she sat back down, “No armour?”  
Zenos gave that soft half-smile that made him look deceptively beautiful, “We are in my bedchamber.”  
“I suppose that is fair,” she said, glad that she wasn’t dressed in her nightgown. Merle watched as the Garlean prince sat down in the room’s only other chair, “So, to what do I owe the honour?”  
“I am curious as to why you are plucking at a harp like a court minstrel,” he lounged to one side, resting his head on his hand and watching her through half-lidded eyes. He looked almost sleepy but Merle was well aware that he was _anything_ but.  
She rose to her feet, extending the artemis bow so that he could see it, “I am a bard, my friend. My songs have to ability to strengthen my allies and weaken my foes, a minstrel is but a pale imitation of this art.”  
Those intense eyes opened, “A hunter needs to do more than just sing.”  
Merle shivered despite herself, his voice always had that effect on her. It was impossible to feel safe in his presence, even though she was armed and he was not, how quickly could he cross the space between them?  
“I learnt to hunt with a bow, with this weapon I have slain primals, dragons,” she paused, “legati.”  
Zenos rose to his feet, that slight smile back on his lips. He walked slowly over to the wall and took down a katana, “Perhaps you can show me...”  
She looked up at him, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable, he towered over her. “Is there room to dance here?”  
He turned without a word, confidently turning his back on her as he had done several times before. Merle gritted her teeth, he was already dead and she had no desire to do his spirit harm. Even so he seemed to practically _beg_ her to strike, to finally claim victory over him.  
Zenos turned his head slightly, “Not willing to put an arrow in my back…”  
She walked behind him, an arrow not even nocked, “Do you want me to shoot you in the back?”  
A slight chuckle, “I don’t think your claws are yet sharp enough.”  
That made her growl, deep in her throat, as he once again made light of her strength. As soon as she made the sound Merle winced, knowing that this was what he wanted. That, once again, he had goaded her to snap and snarl at him.  
He liked that, her fury, her anger. The way that she glared at him as if she wanted to rip him apart, and he seemed to know exactly what to say to get that reaction from her. To turn her into the savage beast that he was so fond of.  
Merle took a deep breath as they walked into the room adjoining his bedchamber, stone-floored and bare of all furniture. A practice, or training, room she guessed, not that Zenos needed one.  
He stopped, and so did she, “Your hunger seems lacking tonight, perhaps it is Taishelo I should have visited.”  
Merle tensed before she could stop herself, growling at the floor at the mention of her husband’s name. She did not notice Zenos turn until a hand caught her under the chin and forced her head up, making her meet his gaze.  
The bastard was still smiling, “So jealous, have you grown so fond of me that you would begrudge me to another?”  
He was playing with her, Merle thought as she glared into eyes that seemed to bore into her soul. She was _not_ going to admit to him what kind of hold he had over her, what made her want to be in his presence even as she feared him.  
“I resent my husband’s prowess in battle,” she told him truthfully, even though she was admitting a weakness, “he is the Azure Dragoon of Ishgard. I am but a wandering warrior. He masters the skills of battle easily, and in such a way that there is no discipline or achievment that is mine alone. Every time we have faced each other he has beaten me, easily, though I am the better hunter.”  
He smirked slightly as he released her, as if he _knew_ that there was more to it than that. For whatever reason, however, Zenos did not press the point. Merle knew that he would, eventually, but this was part of their dance. It was no sport to him to wring out all of her secrets in one go, better to let her betray herself, once again allowing him the chance to stoke her anger.  
Merle nocked an arrow as the Garlean prince took up a position opposite her on the floor. There was a tremor of excitement about him now, she could see it in his eyes. Focussing the anger that she needed in order to fight she snarled at him. A light in those blue eyes Zenos smiled fully as they both gave themselves over to the Hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter I know but the last piece of the story is giving me trouble, still I hope you enjoyed this.


End file.
